


Time For A Shave

by Jld71



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Beards (Facial Hair), Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-14 18:22:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16497842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jld71/pseuds/Jld71
Summary: It's time for a change in Sam's life.





	Time For A Shave

**Author's Note:**

  * For [madebyme_x](https://archiveofourown.org/users/madebyme_x/gifts).



> Written for the OhSam November Comment Meme 2018 hurt/comfort.  
> Prompt by madebyme_x: Sam shaves off his beard of grief. It's harder than it should be (either physically or emotionally - or both!)

He had been driving; the tires of the Impala eating away at the asphalt underneath them. The car, Dean’s baby, had become his second home. More like his only home, he couldn’t bear to be in the bunker. Not without Dean. It wasn’t his home without his brother. It didn’t matter that Castiel was there. So what if Jack was around? Or Mary? Or even Bobby, even if he was the ‘other’ Bobby. Or any of the others they had rescued from the other world. None of them were Dean. It was just too hard to be in that familiar place. He was always expecting Dean to round the corner, slid into the kitchen looking for a cup of coffee or a beer. He could swear, late at night, he saw Dean’s shadow disappearing down the hall. He’d try to stop it. Him? Only to realize it was his imagination. He couldn’t breathe when it slammed home that Dean was gone; under Michael’s control. Dean was lost to him. No matter what he did, no matter the leads he followed up on, Dean was gone. In the wind. Nothing ever panned out. Either they were false leads or Michael was always ten steps ahead of him. 

The Impala was the only thing that soothed him, the rumble of the engine, the connection to his missing brother. Life on the road was easier than hearing the reassuring words that they’d find Dean. They would get him back, rescue him from Michael. He called bullshit on that. Traveling from one place to another was easy. No one to answer to. No reason to stop and get a room. He had slept in the car countless times before. He did it nearly every night now. He’d make a pit stop when needed, not staying long. He’d grab a quick shower, change his clothes and be on the go again. No time for much else, not even shaving. He knew the look was different, a full beard instead of the few days of stubble he sported now and then.

But, that had been then. Now. Now, Dean was back. How he had managed to eject Michael, no one knew, not even Dean himself. The how, that didn’t matter. What mattered was that Dean was back. He had his family, his touchstone back. Dean was what anchored him to this world, to his sanity, to life itself. He was whole again, even if Dean wasn’t. But, there would be time for Dean to heal. Dean was broken and refusing to even talk about it. Stubborn bastard that Dean was. He would put Dean back together again, even if it killed him. 

So, with Dean’s return came the need for change. It was time to shed the beard. His beard of grief as someone had dubbed it. He couldn’t even remember who had called it that. Another thing that didn’t matter. What had mattered was Dean’s reaction to it. Dean had narrowed his eyes at him, those green eyes taking him in, breaking him down to his soul and shaking his head no in response to it. Dean had hated it. His snarky comment about Duck Dynasty calling and wanting the beard back had been one of only countless ways Dean had given his opinion on his facial hair. 

He stood staring at himself in the mirror. Freshly showered. His razor and shaving cream to the right of the sink. Waiting to be used. It was like they were taunting him. Daring him to shave. His chest tightened as his hazel eyes ticked over to them and then flicked away. He couldn’t look at them for long. He felt his breathing coming in sharp little gasps. He braced his hands on the counter, steadying himself. He hung his head down, resting his chin against his chest. He closed his eyes as his vision swam in front of him. He had to get control over himself. Why was this so hard? It was only a beard for Christ’s sake. He could grow another one. But, he knew it was what the beard had represented that was stopping him. The beard had marked time. The time without Dean. The time he had been on his own, even if he had their family there with him. They hadn’t been Dean. 

He forced his eyes open and raised his head. With shaking hands, he reached for the shaving cream and razor, pulling them closer. He took a deep breath, finding his resolve as he picked up the can, shook it and sprayed the thick foam onto his hand. He watched himself as he raised his hand and brought it to his face, coating his cheeks, chin and neck in the white lather. He rinsed his hands and then grabbed at the razor, feeling the cool metal against his fingers. He brought the blade to his cheek and began to scrape the coarse hair from his face, revealing the soft smooth skin underneath. After the first pass, he dipped the razor into the water that filled the sink, cleaning it before beginning again. He repeated the process, feeling his heart lighten, his stress and grief over Dean dissolve. When he was done; clean shaven, he tidied up the bathroom before dressing. He took one more look at himself before leaving the bathroom. He smiled at his reflection. The first genuine smile since Dean had returned. It would take them time to unravel Michael’s plan for this world. But, they’d manage it together; Sam and Dean Winchester.


End file.
